


A General's Objective.

by SepiaWhiskey



Category: DCU, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Declarations Of Love, Drabble, F/F, Female Character of Color, Female Homosexuality, Friendship/Love, Inspired by Wonder Woman (2017), Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Wonder Woman (2017) Spoilers, reader is poc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepiaWhiskey/pseuds/SepiaWhiskey
Summary: Antiope is tactically brilliant on the battlefield but cannot compose herself enough to speak to you.[ Antiope / Reader ]





	A General's Objective.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's super spacey. I'm too lazy to go through it. I just copy and paste from Google Docs so...yup.

**D I A N A**

Diana is no fool. She knows very well that her mother and aunt have made it a passion to keep her in the dark about many aspects of her life and even Themyscira as a whole. Most days, she can tell by the sided glances and careful tone when a subject is one her mother wishes she remain shallow in knowledge on. And while they are generally topics she is curious about but not yearning to understand, her 16 years on the island have kept her observant. Ironically, she attributes her capability to observe on the very woman who she has been observing for the past year - her aunt, Antiope. Next to her mother, she was a prized aspiration by Diana and for a short time in her younger years, she does not really pay attention to her personal life. But when she hits 13, she notices something so strange.

The woman accounts her usefulness and value in battle. How often had she actually heard her take so much pride in the state of the troops? At dinner, regaling her tired mother with the honest grandeur of her own progress as well as other woman she trained. Every so often, her mother would invite members of the Senate or other organizations on the island to the table for dinner. It was Diana’s understanding that this was to keep touch with every small and large group that made up their home. But even on these nights, her aunt allowed herself to continue with her boasting, even more so on the right nights. And to this day, there is only one occasional night of these dinners in which her aunt is suddenly drawn back and taken into silence. And there is only one person - who happens to be coming tonight - that her aunt truly cannot seem to look in the eyes for long moments of time. Someone who -

“Diana!”

 

The princess pulls from her thoughts, sitting up from her bed. Hair tied back but still in her training wraps, she runs through the hall of her home, closing in on the beckon from her mother. When she slides into the main room, she must glance around the few servants tending to the table’s presentation, noticing her mother standing with her just arrived aunt. She looks concerned, almost nervous but somehow angry with her brow so furrowed. She is dressed just as she was during their training session this afternoon. What’s more is that she seems to have brought something with her. Diana blinks but approaches carefully, bowing her head respectfully towards her aunt. Antiope parts from her dejected expression. She smiles softly and presses her right fist to the left of her chest, “You’re a warrior now, Diana. Address me as one.”

Diana looks up with a smile, repeating the gesture much to her mother’s hesitant acceptance. Regardless, her mother seems to offer her sister an interesting smile. It catches Diana off guard as it appears somehow smug or mocking. Their younger years show in the interaction and Diana looks at the box in her aunt’s hands curiously. It is no bigger than if her aunt were to cup her hands with alabaster wrapping and a gold hued bow. It is so...unlike her aunt.

“Diana,” her mother speaks softly, looking at her daughter, “Place this on the end table behind your aunt’s seat. She will retrieve it when she decides to do so, and I’d like for her to have it on hand when that time comes…”

 

“No need to speak about me like I’m not in the room, Lyta. Diana is smart enough to catch your tone,” She snatches the box back and avoids eye contact with niece and sister. Antiope distances herself, seating herself at the table the moment the women are done setting it up. The result is, without much surprise, gorgeously splayed. Her mother had once described it as “fit enough to serve the gods.” Perhaps her intuition to do so is ill-planned, but Diana cannot help but turn and look at her mother, blinking, “Mother, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Diana.”

Gesturing subtly towards the table, she’s smart enough not to actually offer her gaze to aunt, “Which of the senators are we having over tonight? Because I had a question about one of them…”

This question, in all its simplicity, seems to ignite a delight in her mother. She is taken aback when her mother, a woman generally calm with emotions that shift naturally like waves, sudden must fight the signs of a clear grin. Delicately, her hands go to her daughter’s shoulders, “My daughter - can I assume you’re speaking about our arriving guest, Senator Orithia?” At the final two words, she notices her mother’s voice rise just slightly, eyes flitting behind her daughter before looking back with an innocent look.

“What question might you have had? Speak while I fix this hair of yours. You’ll change into your proper clothes after this, as well. Go ahead…”

 

**A N T I O P E**

Damn her sister straight to Hades.

Antiope does not entertain her sister’s taunting gaze or the exploitation of her niece in the name of another taunt. She refuses to even give the slightest bit of satisfaction to her sister for having taken one of her greatest insecurities and turned into a joke to laugh at. Perhaps it comes from a place of innocent playfulness, but Antiope cannot fathom the humor. She keeps her gaze forward but even when her sister speaks the name stridently enough for her to hear, her face burns and the memory of the woman leaves her stunted in her place, gaze down at the untouched plate before her.

Senator Orithia - a woman so becoming and intelligent that she made the general feel like a fool some days. The senator was one of the few who supported the intensification of training for the troops where her sister found it useless. The first time she had heard that she would be joining her family for dinner, Antiope had insisted that she be given the opportunity to thank the faceless supporter of her own personal stance. And from the instant she entered the room, Antiope was at a loss for words. She carried herself with such poise but comfort, so sure in herself and who she was. She seated herself accordingly, going across the general only for the two of them to fall into a well-paced, enthused conversation. Antiope had not felt such a passion to speak to someone before. Admittedly, she had initially been taken by her beauty and her intelligence had left her dumbfounded. By the time she left that first night, she swore she would either make a colleague out of this woman, or - more in hope - a lover.

By the Gods. She sounded pathetic.

Antiope perks at a paced servant who approaches her sister with a soft bow and mutters in her ear, vanishing down the corridor leading to the exit in a matter of time. Antiope looks to her sister in a suspect manner and dares her by gaze alone to make light of the situation again – especially in front of her niece. Hippolyta ascends her hands to gesture a respectful surrender and nods, giving a surprisingly frank admittance, “Perhaps in private, I can find some humor in how little you have changed, Antiope. But I will never take pride or even commit to embarrassing you. You have my word. She and two others are coming up the steps right now. Diana! Our company has arrived. Are you done?”

And just like that, her sister shifts back into the role of a regal mother and queen, whisking away down the halls to her child’s bedroom as the doors can be heard opening. For a moment, there is light murmuring in hand with approaching footsteps, and it isn’t long before Antiope knows she can hear  _ her.  _ Her back straightens and she must compose herself rather than look to be sulking as she so internally is. Each time they have spoken – all of seven times – she has always assured her presentation of self to be something roughly regal. Perhaps not as dainty as her sister was so easily able to capture, but as soft as a General who favored sword to words could possibly manage. Aside from these seven aforementioned dinners, Antiope has seen the woman walking the streets other times. Of course, she often lingers around the Senate and can at times be seen watching the training sessions. She will be crowded either with just her two guards or accompanying members of the Senate. 

Antiope sighs and commits to a calm demeanor before standing and standing close to the threshold, hands behind her back.

Now, she waited.

 

**O R I T H E A**

The company of guards at either hip always made for a curious feeling. Orithia is not royalty and she never truly yearned to be one. But since her first day at the Senate, there seemed to be some rule she had missed in her studies that said she was required to be accompanied by some form of security past a certain hour. To an extent, it made plenty of sense. But crime was not something the people of Themyscira truly took as a concern. Yes, it did exist. It was unfortunate that some of the sisters here felt they needed to do this, but assassination? Nonexistent – for centuries. Regardless, there was no point debating why or how to go about “ditching” the women, or something. Their services were of good intention and the women themselves were good people. So she is content – slightly.

One of the queen’s servants allows her inside and smiles politely, guiding the trio forward. Orithia returns the sentiment and allows the women on either side of her to chat quietly. She looks up and notices the mutes light of the candles in the next room. Hands behind her back she stops momentarily and turns to one of the guarding women, Amina upon hearing something curious. She permits a small smile over her lips and stops halfway down the corridor, “You truly mean to do this?”

The woman, Amina, smiles widely to the Senator and nods with a chuckle, “I must, Senator. Perhaps it is my pride, but if my sister is insistent that she could swim any faster than me on my worst day? I must set her in her place. The training we endured to become guards has molded me into a confident woman.”

“And swimmer apparently. I would never dare to challenge you to your paddling abilities. That I can promise.”

 

The group erupts into a genuine bit of laughter. Orithia smiles, the bottoms of her sandals softly clapping against the marble flooring, hands tucked behind her dark red cloak hanging from the clips on her shoulders. She had grown quite accustomed to wearing more presenting dresses since joining the Senate. At a time, she had followed her mother’s ambitions in becoming a successful warrior, but even she could see that Orithia thrived in the finer politics of Themyscira. She longed to be part of change and aid in the island and now she was doing that. And she assumed she was doing quite well if this was not her first time being invited.

At the corner, there is the sight of a standing shadow and Orithia cocks an eyebrow in curiosity before turning, stopping short at the sight of a posture perfect General Antiope. Her hair lays in a braid on her shoulder, adorning her…less than dinner-esque attire.

 

She was wearing her training attire. Simply put.

Orithia blinks and gestures with a hand for her guards to halt before looking at the woman, “General Antiope?”

The woman looks up suddenly, blinking before setting a right fist over the left of her chest, giving a respectful bow likely fit only for her sister, “Senator. Forgive me. I didn’t see you. And please, you may call me Antiope.” Orithia can only smile softly and nod, “It’s entirely alright. Shall I sit where I had before?” The guards stand at the threshold of the corridor, silent from conversation. Orithia does not wait and rounds the table, hand delicately gesturing towards the table, “This table is stunning.”

“Thank you,” Antiope offers whilst clearing her throat, “I know this is not my doing but  I – I know my sister’s people take pride in their efforts.”

 

Orithia nods carefully, “They certainly do. I feel somewhat overwhelmed in privilege. I almost don’t feel to deserve it. At the least, I would like to thank them before my leave, if it would be all the same to you?”

“You haven't even been served food yet and you're already feeling inclined to thank the servants…” Hippolyta parts from the halls leading to the corridors with this teasing sentence, Diana in front of her and dressed far more properly than prior. The queen smiles, hands still to the shoulders of Diana, “...it seems you're still not accustomed to your life as a Senator, even after all these years. Ever the humble woman.”

 

Orithia lowers her head with a muted chuckle and looks up quite modestly, “You shame me, my queen. I feel almost sinful for this modesty you speak about.” The Senator's brown eyes look down at the princess and she takes her hands, kissing each one individually, “Gratitude, my queen. My princess. I always enjoy an invitation to dine with you.”

 

“I assume you've noticed that our General with be joining us?” Hippolyta offers quietly, allowing Diana to creep to her seat close to her mother. Orithia nods and looks to the General, “Of course. We spoke before you came in - though, not about much other than the table. I apologise if I bored you, General.” Antiope looks at Orithia with an indefinite amount of disapproval, brow furrowed and all, “Not at all, Senator.” The conviction of this settles Orithia and she smiles, clasping her hands together, “I believe we've done enough standing with the aid of preamble. Should we sit, then? I believe the princess has the right idea.” 

  
  


**D I A N A**

Diana perks at the mention of her title and sees her mother and the Senator chuckling at this. Her aunt is reserved with a strained smile. If there is a greater sign that this woman has some effect on her aunt, it would pertain Zeus coming down and scribing it in the table before them. The Senator is a beautiful woman. 

 

Darker flesh that seems to gleam in the perfect light and even in the dullest somehow, hair divided into singular braids that eventually come together down her back in a half up and half down style. Like most Themyscira women, there is a healthy definition to her arms when she rests her hands in her lap, listening to her mother go on about something. Diana does not know much about the woman beyond get occupation on the island, but the ease of elegance is nothing missed. Food had been served plenty a time ago, and Diana can hear the reluctance in her aunt's voice. She seems conflicted to speak about her training stories but not wanting to bore the Senator - if Diana was reading the situation correctly. 

Orithia remarks after her aunt finally relents to a story, "I imagine the women must respect you greatly."

 

"That is the hope. The hope that I've earned it," Antiope reveals, looking up breifly before engaging in eye contact with her plate again.

 

"I imagine that would be the objective," Diana's mother chuckles.

  
"Wrong, sister," Anitope affirms, looking towards the queen, "Respect is far too subjective to be made an objective. My objective is that when - or in your mind, if - our island ever is to come under fire, that they will be prepared. Far as what I can see, I have acheived that." 

  
Orithia looks at her, visibly intrigued, "Really? And what is the difference between hope and an objective to you, General?"

Antiope turns her gaze back to her food, but there is a temporary confidence in her voice, "Hope is open to failure. When I make an objective as a General, it is always done." 

 

Orithia looks to Antiope for a long moment before nodding, "Then I will always put my hope in whatever objective you may decide for our troops, General. That much, I can see." From there, Diana parts her attention from the conversation. She hears what is being spoke about from time to time but otherwise keeps her eyes on the expression of her aunt. She has never dedicated an entire meal to gauging the expressions of anyone, but tonight she cannot seem to help herself. It is interesting to watch her aunt remain confident but somehow manage a teenage like coyness when it came to coming face to face with Senator Orithia. It is only when she sees the Senator looking at her that Diana is pulled from her thoughts and brought back into the conversation, turning and politely asking, “I'm sorry?”

 

The Senator smiles quietly, “I was remarking how lovely your dress was. I asked if you had it especially cut.”

 

Diana nods, “Yes. Specially cut.”

 

“Ah. I'm afraid I'll have to do the same. Many of my dresses have become worn.”

 

“You're talking about the one you have on as well?” Antiope remarks in a questionable fashion, relenting her fork for a moment. Diana notices and watches the exchange carefully. Orithia looks curiously towards Diana's aunt and nods, “Unfortunately, yes. I am forced to pin it in certain areas to maintain a physique friendly appearance.”

 

“I would disagree. You're fit to rival Aphrodite.”

 

Forks fall from hands and Diana is no exception. The statement is so broad and unopen to interpretation. She can feel silence fill the room and even the guards’ interest has been greatly peaked. Diana glances to her mother - her eyes darting back and forth between the two women. Then, the princess looks at her aunt. Her gaze stays on her plate, fork in the tight grip of a fist against the table. She has not moved, and Diana cannot fathom if she ever will. The statement is not so crude or strange in any way. But the blatant truth that stands before it is what drives the silence through. The Senator, when Diana finally realizes to look, seems more taken aback than anything. She too has her expression on her food, but it isn't long before it scales slowly up to her aunt...only to go back to her food. Then...she smiles. 

 

The smile is small and certainly plagued with a nervousness so unfamiliar with the image of the Senator. Her fork taps the plate before her and she can only offer in a small voice that comes with a layer of teenage coyness, “I - thank you, General.”

 

Diana's aunt nods slowly, head down. She continues to eat but leads with a gruff, “Of course, Senator.”

 

“Please. Call me Orithia.”

 

“...of course, Orithia.”

 

There is a visible effort to avoid the blatant compliment that her aunt has made when the dinner proceeds and by the end, Diana cannot simply watch her aunt follow out there Senator without following the way of windows. The princess waits until

her mother says her goodbyes and starts for bed before rushing her own goodbye, hanging by the door with another curious servant close enough to her age at 20 that they are able to both snoop without fear of being told on by the other. 

 

With her ear pressed against the wood, Diana shushes the girl, listening closely…

 

**A N T I O P E**

She must say something before they reach the final steps. Orithia’s horses - guards’ horses included to her own - can be seen being prepared to leave. She can either apologise and beg forgiveness to never say such a thing again or admit that these words were something serious to Antiope. For all the years she had dedicated herself to training and the beauty of battle, it is possible she sacrificed what could have been healthy romantic and even at times, general social skills. Her faltering skill in the art of subtlety was put on display quite clearly tonight. She feels a semblance of shame even as she walks the woman down, stopping short. When Orithia does not notice, she forces herself to reach out, extending a hand to the woman's shoulder softly. 

 

The Senator turns, looking at her carefully, “General Antiope?”

 

“I must apologise.” Antiope affirms.

 

“What for?” Orithia pauses, then: “Oh…there’s no need.”

 

“I placed you in an uncomfortable situation by being so blunt and even if it did come from a place of flattery? I could've gone about it far more subtly and respectfully. And for that, I apologize. I did not take into consideration that you may already have a lover. It had not even crossed my mind to ask - “

 

“Wait, wait…” Orithia pauses. She seems to anticipate the rushing of the guards down below and gestures with a hand for them to wait before placing her hands folded behind her back and under her cloak again, “General - Antiope, have I been missing something in our interactions? I know from my own sister’s confessions that I have a tendency to overlook the underlying tone of things people say to me. But what do my...romantic endeavours have to do with a simple compliment?” 

 

So this is how it would be. Very well. 

 

Antiope sighs with much hesitation. What leads her to speak is only the fact that regardless of what is said, she has made a fool of herself tonight. Her best chance now being to at least gain something from it - embarrassed feelings casted. Slowly, she relents the nervous gesture of keeping her hands behind her back and allows them forward, reaching around and behind the Senator until she takes hold of the woman’s hands. Only, she finds something strange as well. The woman’s hands are shaking, just as hers were moments ago. They stop once Antiope takes them in hers and there is a humbling aspect in knowing that she is not the only one of the two to have been feeling slightly nervous. 

 

But this also speaks to the possibility that perhaps Orithia felt the same? 

 

Firmly yet softly, she holds the woman’s hands in her own, keeping them in between the both of them. Antiope closes in just slightly and looks at Orithia with a determined expression: 

 

“I have spent much of my life training myself and training others. I exceeded what was expected of me to become a General because I feared a rumour of claimed nepotism with my sister as queen. I have spent more time honing my abilities and preparing this island for the inevitable battle it will one day face - be me alive or long gone for centuries. I don’t regret any of these things. None. I can only regret not allowing myself the opportunity to try my hand at finding another but...when I met you, Orithia, I cannot claim that I love you - for we have only spoken so many times, but... I do sense something when I am with you. Something I cannot place but cannot help but admire. I find you to be one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure to meet and the most intelligent. I only ask that you allow me a chance to know you better and for you to know me. I swear I can speak of things other than war..." 

"This feels...like a proposal of marriage, almost." Oritihia breathes. She remains composed but there is certainly a look of befuddlement on her behalf. Had she not been told such a thing before? 

  
Antiope gives a fair smile and nods, "Just slightly. But for now, I would hope I could offer you time and attention to understand one another. What do you say?"

Orithia glances behind her at the waiting guards who seem to have caught sight of Antiope's hands holding her own. They are caught staring and quickly look away the moment the Senator sees them. She can laugh about later but in the moment, she is too focused on the offer. She turns back slowly and looks at the General before nodding slowly, fingers curling around the woman's hands, "I accept your proposal, General. You have my time and attention when you can spare your own." Antiope can feel a great lightness in her chest and nods, perfectly concealing the burst of relief and jovial nature springing within her. Initially, she does not intend anything beyond this question and accepts that she must bid the woman goodnight - but something changes. For one, she had not intended to ask her in such perfect light by aid of the moon. She intended it indoors where she could stand and close the door behind Orithia, emoting however she may have depending on the answer. But seeing her now, seeing the light in her eyes and flesh, she feels her feet shift forward. Hands still curled around the woman's, she moves them to the side so that she may step even closer to the Senator, looking down at her from the inch or two she has on her. To her relief, Orithia does not seem objecting to this abrupt change in action and does her part by slightly curving her head, allowing Antiope to perfectly angle her lips and plant them firmly against the Senator's. 

 

She relents holding hands and uses her own to cup one cheek with a hand at the base of her nape, finally tasting Orithia and savoring the seconds of mutual lust. She feels almost wrong for the things that come to mind amidst this kiss. She almost pulls away because of it, but her racing heart steadies and her thoughts tone down to simple gestures of romance when Orithia places her hands on her collarbone, lightly holding onto the leather that crosses over. It feels like the entire night they stand this way before Antiope relents, pulling back. She releases a breathless chuckle, fingers still against her flesh, "I apologize. My intention was not to kiss you." 

 

A childlike mischeif overcomes Orithia and she bites her lip with a knowing smile, "You should be more spontaneous then, General. But you'll have to earn our next kiss."

 

Antiope gives a slight smirk, tilting the woman's chin up, "Consider it my newest objective."  


End file.
